The Matt Drake Series Books: 7-9 (The Matt Drake Series Boxset 2)

by David Leadbeater

  “Believe me, there’re no laughs anymore.” Drake picked off one of the mercenaries. Dahl stepped into view and peppered the tunnel’s far end. Mai ran low, leading the pack as the Swede fired constantly over her head. Within seconds the two had reached the end of the tunnel. Drake and Alicia came next, stepping out into a vast underground chamber.

  Drake shot a man in the vest, then capitalized on his stumble, laying him out cold on the dusty rock floor. With a moment to spare he absorbed everything around him, the Pythians’ secret factory. As Hayden intimated, the workshop was sparse, rough and ready, but effective. Six long wooden desks stood end to end, their surfaces crowded with all manner of paraphernalia from glass tubes and centrifuges to computer screens. Some of the containers had liquid bubbling over, some smoked. The computers whirred as they crunched numbers. Men in civilian clothes cowered to one side. Not a bad thing, Drake thought. Scared men imparted information without too much complaint. As the teams flooded the room, Drake ranged to one side, searching for stragglers or hidden shooters.

  “Not buying it,” Hayden said through the comms, her words matching his feelings. Her next orders were very loud. “Interrogate those assholes! We need the sample’s location and to know if they managed to weaponize anything. After that, we need Dudley and the rest of his pack of reprobates.”

  Drake continued hugging the walls, finally arriving at a concealed exit. He clicked his earpiece. “Another tunnel right here. Leads deeper into the mountain.”

  As he spoke several men, hidden guards no doubt, leaped out of the tunnel’s deeper murk, striking at him with sharp weapons. Drake blocked two knives at once, then struck into his opponent’s body with a clenched fist, twice, three times, each punch a devastating hammer blow to the ribs. Both men went down groaning. Alicia nipped in to his left, grabbing the arm of another man and bending it until he screeched. The knife dropped and the man followed it, rendered unconscious. Drake dragged the next man out into the open, handing him off to Mai. Two more filled the gap, guns drawn. Drake opened fire before they did, ending their lives. He moved inside the tunnel even as he heard the voices of terrified technicians rapidly revealing whatever Hayden demanded of them.

  Drake crept along, Alicia closer to him than his own shadow. “If Dudley escaped this way,” Dahl said, “I figure he has a good ten minutes’ head start on us. Get your flat Yorkshire feet moving or let me lead.”

  “I’m creeping so I can hear Hayden’s outcome,” he told the Swede. “Dudley might have slipped out the front for all we know.”

  “Naw, lad, not bleedin’ likely!” A voice cracked from up ahead, “Here. Chew on that while I make me escape!”

  Something bounced down the tunnel toward him, something that jumped and bobbled and leaped with each metallic clang. Drake backed up fast, slamming into Alicia and Dahl and having to wait until those at his back squeezed out of the tunnel.

  Not fast enough. The grenade exploded into a fiery ball and a whoosh of air sped along the enclosed space. Drake wasn’t free and saw the flames and the shrapnel about to destroy his face until, at the last moment, something huge took hold of his jacket and yanked him back into the cavern. Drake gasped, head and legs flying forward, back arched, as he took flight. The heave sent him rolling head over heels and away from the gout of flame.

  “Jesus.”

  Drake glimpsed the immense thighs, the bulky torso and thick neck of Mano Kinimaka. The big Hawaiian held out a meaty paw. “You’re welcome, dude.”

  Drake climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. Hayden paced over to them.

  “It’s not good. Dudley escaped with the sample and three aerosolized prototype boxes containing a derivative of bubonic plague, which is to say the plague mixed with a variety of old and contemporary diseases, weaponized in the form of an aerosol. Luckily, we got here before they could engineer more. This derivative gives them such a range of options . . .” She shook her head in fear.

  Alicia and Mai slipped back into the tunnel.

  Drake eyed the scientists. “We should wall them up down here.”

  “Some were coerced, it seems, but yes others did it for the money. We can wall those up if you like.”

  “Antidote?” Dahl eyed the scientists who regarded him with dread.

  Hayden answered. “Dudley took it with him.”

  “Are you sure?” Dahl growled at the boffins, most of whom mouthed silently in abject fear, but half a dozen attested to the evil Irishman’s fast getaway with everything they had concocted.

  Alicia and Mai reappeared. “Tunnel’s still passable,” the Englishwoman said. “But barely and some of it looks unstable.” She paused. “I’m game if you are.”

  “Game is hunted and killed by cowardly men with big guns and tiny penises,” Mai said quietly. “We are soldiers. We’ll hunt them.”

  Russo nodded vehemently and Caitlyn looked like she wanted to applaud.

  Drake nodded. “The road,” he said. “Or a hidden helicopter. Those are Dudley’s only options. Call the birds back.”

  “Stealth is always an option,” Mai said. “We were trained to be ghosts drifting like mist along the terrain for days if need be. Weeks.”

  “We’re not exactly dealing with Ninjas here,” Alicia pointed out. “At best they’re trained mercs.”

  The team exited fast. Crouch led his team out first, using Healey and Russo as point men. Hayden fell in next to Drake.

  “The geniuses inside told us one more thing,” she said with a slight smile. “An older woman and a younger man escaped with Dudley. The woman was complaining.”

  Drake grinned. “Mint! Le Brun and Bell. That rules out a covert escape. They’ll be hightailing it back to Pythian-land.”

  Dahl, one step behind, shook his head in wonder. “It never fails to stun me—the crazy, lazy mixed-up language that shoots out of your mouth. I mean mint? What does that even mean?”

  “Good.” Drake looked surprised. “Y’know? As opposed to you saying ‘oh, dearest darling Johanna, that was such a stupendous movie’, us Yorkshire folk go—‘that were mint’. Same thing, only we save words and time. Think of all the extra hours we so easily gain.”

  Outside, four of the choppers had returned and were hovering inches above the ground. The Greek soldiers milled around, directionless. Hayden spoke to their boss and then paged Caitlyn.

  “You still have a connection to Argento?”

  “I do. What do you need?” Caitlyn had been listening into their comms so would be fully briefed.

  “Satellites. Lots of them.”

  Caitlyn signed off to contact the Italian. Half the Greek soldiers fanned out to search the area, hoping to flush out any marksmen, runners or even people who may be concealed. Drake and the others climbed aboard their helicopters.

  Almost immediately Caitlyn came back on the line. “I have Armand. He’s . . . a little excited.”

  Drake flinched as the Italian’s loud chatter filled his ears. “I have them! Well, surely it’s them! A convoy of three cars, black SUVs, speeding away from you and toward the coast. The eastern coast. Damn things weren’t there five minutes ago, now they’re zooming along in close formation. Go, go, go!”

  Hayden waved at the pilot, twirling her finger upward and to the east. “He’s nothing if he’s not enthusiastic,” she commented drily.

  Two choppers rose, team SPEAR’s and team Gold’s, black vultures seeking out prey. As one their noses dipped and they shot forward, skimming the trees. Almost straight away Drake spotted the black tarmac ribbon.

  “We’ve got ‘em.”

  Both helicopters found the road and followed it, swinging with the curves. As they raced through the air Argento spoke up. “Oh no. I’m using a satellite with a built-in redundancy. It’s the only one available. There’s a ten-minute delay. Our friends, it seems, have a chopper of their own. It just lifted off—and I’m calculating back to real time here—about two miles in front of you.”

  Drake’s leaned forward with a serious fa
ce. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “We have two choppers and we’re about to shoot theirs right out of the bloody sky.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Drake hung on as their pilot picked up the pace, chasing the black tail of the bird ahead. To his right, Hayden was floundering, beset from all sides by agitated parties desperate to know the situation—at least three governments, cooperating teams and ministers, the American military, the British, even Greek Special Forces that had been left behind at the cave. In the end she removed the headphones from her head and held them together.

  “Let ‘em prattle away to each other.”

  Their pilot turned his head, staring back into the rear cabin. “They’re within range, Miss Jaye.”

  Hayden winced. Drake knew she would have to send the request up the chain of command and that would only lead to more gibbering. By the time . . .

  Hayden fixed Drake with a stare. “Dudley. Two mercs. Le Brun and Bell, right?”

  “Right. We believe.”

  Hayden tapped the separate device in her ear. “Caitlyn, can you get anything tasked to tell us how many are in that chopper?”

  “It’s not that easy,” Caitlyn said after a minute. “Besides, don’t you have aerosolized plague on there?”

  “The scientists told us all three aerosols were stored inside boxes. I’m damn sure they’ll be resilient.”

  “Still . . .”

  Drake chewed on a nail. “You do realize how this all fits with the Pythians’ idea, don’t you? The Pandora plague. Engineered in Pandora’s birthplace and then transported in a box. If you didn’t know it before you sure as hell do now—these assholes have more cracks in them than a politician’s promise.”

  “Totally apeshit,” Dahl agreed. “Destroy them.”

  Karin jumped out of her seat, staying low. “Caitlyn’s right. You can’t risk—”

  The pilot cried out and the chopper veered violently at the same time. Karin sprawled head first, smashing her nose against Kinimaka’s shin. For as second the world turned on its side and then they were level again.

  “Evasive maneuver,” the pilot said calmly. “They’re firing on us.”

  Komodo hauled Karin upright and strapped her in. Kinimaka apologized for his clumsiness. Karin laughed. “Sure, Mano, next time I show my inexperience make sure your stupid shin’s not attached to your leg.”

  A second missile separated from the lead chopper. Drake watched as their pilot again dodged the lethal streak.

  “Fuck this,” he said. “Get alongside so we can fill ‘em full of holes. Make them force land.”

  The pilot threw the cyclic stick at the top speed symbol. The chopper accelerated rapidly and the gap closed. After a minute the lead chopper swung across the landscape, making a sharp turn and Drake saw a gleaming blue expanse ahead.

  “The Aegean Sea,” Hayden said. “That can’t be good.”

  The reason for the chopper’s maneuver soon became clear as a town began to unfold amid the countryside below.

  “Larissa,” Hayden said. “We can’t shoot them down now. Stay close.”

  Three helicopters blasted across the skies, heading for the bright, shimmering blue. If Drake had needed any reminder as to the madness of their opponents it soon came as Callan Dudley threw open the side doors of his chopper and pointed a machine gun at them. Laughing, he opened fire, strafing the skies with lead. Their pilot dropped down and back, tucking in behind the mercenary’s bird.

  “That guy’s starting to friggin’ annoy me,” Smyth’s voice declared over the comms.

  Drake stared at Dahl, then Kinimaka and the entire chopper erupted with laughter. Judging from the noise across their connection the second chopper descended into the same state. Smyth grumped aloud. “What? What the hell you laughing at? Guy’s a total dickhead.”

  Drake enjoyed the moment of levity. Sometimes, it was all you needed to gain total focus. In other ways, it reminded you of what you were fighting for. Men like Callan Dudley would never understand.

  All three helicopters shot over the town, Dudley loosing rounds into the sky for sport. Drake noticed red blips following them on the radar and pointed them out to the pilot.

  “I saw them. They’re the army helicopters.”

  “Good.”

  “If they land in Larissa with those aerosols . . .” Mai warned.

  Hayden nodded as she listened to her headset. “Already on it. The risk is off the scale. The Greeks . . .” she sighed, “are trying to come to a decision.”

  But the chopper flew fast and straight, arrow straight, with the Irishman firing recklessly toward the rooftops of Larissa and the blue expanse only growing larger ahead. Occasionally Dudley would lean out dangerously and take a potshot at their bird. A bullet glanced off a skid, then some framework. Eventually Dahl leaned out and fired back, peppering the chopper’s body with holes.

  Drake glared. “Stop it.”

  “Guy’s pissing me off. I didn’t aim for the engine.”

  Then Larissa was behind them and a golden coastline opened out. A sandy beach stretched north and south, dotted by leafy parasols and timber-constructed lifeguard stations. Small figures were laid out on sunbeds down there. Children ran through the waves, splashing and brandishing plastic spades and buckets. Life was good for relaxing locals and vacationing travelers.

  And then Drake saw it was about to get incredibly, infinitely worse.

  “Where the hell are they—” Hayden began and then clammed up in horror. “Oh no.”

  Dudley’s chopper dived toward the deck of the biggest cruise ship Drake had ever seen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Like an enormous floating hotel it sat in the Aegean, several miles offshore. Pure white, its hull shone against the sparkling blue waters. Idling, at ease, it might be offering its passengers a unique view of Mount Olympus, or about to turn around.

  But it had no idea of the horrors plunging out of the skies on rotors of black steel. It had no clue what was coming.

  Drake did. Everyone did. And there was only one way to stop it.

  “Fire!” Dahl cried. “Shoot them out of the skies!”

  The pilot’s hand flashed toward the weapons array and then hesitated. “Miss Jaye?”

  Hayden spoke rapidly into her mic. Seconds passed. Hayden screwed her eyes up. Their window was closing.

  “We’re over the sea,” Komodo put in helpfully.

  Hayden turned on him. “Don’t you think I know—” Then she stopped, listened and spoke with harsh determination.

  “Fire the missile.”

  The pilot reacted instantly, flipping open the red safety cover and covering the button with his thumb. A moment to align and then . . .

  Dudley’s chopper fell hard, perhaps anticipating the missile. Drake heard a hiss and a streak emitted from their undercarriage, marked by white smoke. It shot ahead just as Alicia’s chopper came alongside, offering support. The Englishwoman gave them a thumbs up through the open door.

  Dudley’s bird dived, nose first. The missile flashed toward it. The cruise ship grew outlandishly big through their cockpit windscreen, the stunned faces of passengers clearly visible. The falling chopper lurched as the missile struck, an explosion ripping chunks of metal free and sending them tumbling to the decks below.

  “Of all the goddamn, appalling luck,” Dahl breathed, fearful for the ship’s occupants.

  The enemy chopper slowed and leveled out, visibly reaching for the ship’s lido deck, a flat stretch occupied only by sun loungers to the rear. Passengers fled in every direction, leaving belongings and dashing away on bare feet. Ship’s crew stared in disbelief. The chopper crashed skids first, bouncing and listing for a moment before losing all momentum. Flames flicked out of its left-side door, the metal framework there hanging torn and ragged.

  “Get down there,” Drake urged their pilot. “This hell is just beginning!”

  Figures jumped out of the stricken chopper. Dudley and one other well-built man. A
third dropped through the flames, unmoving. Then a woman jumped to the ship’s deck, falling as she landed hard, followed by a more agile man.

  Lauren stared but didn’t need to try too hard. “That’s Nicholas Bell,” she said and shook her head. “He seemed a nice guy, you know? Wrong place, wrong time, that kinda thing.”

  “You’re still thinking he could be an ally?” Dahl asked as their helicopter closed in. “Even after this?”

  “You’re as bad as friggin’ Alicia,” Russo growled from the other chopper. “And her Beauregard. Bastard can’t conspire with terrorists if he’s dead.”

  Drake listened but—surprisingly—the moment passed without comment from Alicia and then they hit the deck. Instantly he was out and running, following the route Dudley’s crew had taken moments before. A shot cracked. Drake stared grimly, unmoved as plastic splinters burst out of the parasol pole near his head. The shot served to locate Dudley’s team, concealed behind a questionable divider, but civilians still crowded the walkway behind them.

  Staring. Crying. Filming the scene with their cellphones. Flicking onto Facebook to tell their friends. Slap bang in the line of fire.

  “Get the feck outta here!” an Irish brogue colored the air.

  They ran, Dudley forcibly dragging Miranda Le Brun back into hiding. The oil baroness’s face was blackened, her clothes torn. The last remaining merc fired another shot.

  Drake ignored it, Dahl at his side. The decision proved to be a mistake as the bullet slammed into his flak jacket, sending him to his knees with a cry. Dahl stared down at him.

  “Stop being such a fucking pussy. It’s only a bullet.”

  Drake struggled to his feet, still gasping. The Mad Swede was already halfway across the lido deck and now Smyth and Komodo were at his side. Karin hung back, but held her weapon and analyzed the scene with growing skill. Behind her Alicia’s helicopter slammed onto the deck.

  The blond woman leaped out like an avenging Valkyrie. “You all right, Drakester? Saw you go down when you took a hit.”